The Pub Puzzle
by FindingRainbows
Summary: Nobody goes down to the pub just for easy use of an umlaut- what is Sherlock hiding? Who has the more troublesome sibling?The angst is minimal- Sherlock is just pushed out of his comfort zone somewhat.
1. John's New Friends

A/N Sherlock, John and Lestrade are not mine. 

The pub was bustling with activity and there was an air of anticipation. England were about to play a game which would guarantee them a place in the final but only if they won.

John had found himself being invited to watch the game with Lestrade and some of his friends. He'd only gone to drop some evidence back off at Scotland Yard when Lestrade had suggested he join them for a beer. Finding himself without an excuse not to and an actual desire to go, John had accepted the offer and was now sat with Michael and Gareth, at a table, in The Old Mill.

Michael and Gareth were old friends of Lestrade who were not in the police but were a lawyer and a plumber respectively. Michael had befriended Lestrade when the detective had had to take the stand himself during a case that had gone 'slightly wrong'. John wished he knew the details of that but decided not to question it after noting the rather pained expressions that crossed the men's faces. Gareth was simply Lestrade's neighbour. John found both men affable and he was enjoying being part of a 'gang' again even if it was only for this one night when the big football game was on.

John used to go out for drinks quite a bit before he joined the army. Had his own friends that he could rely on for a laugh and generally have a good evening with down the pub. Of course, that had all changed.

"Cheers," John said as Lestrade placed a pint down in front of him and returned to his seat at the table.

"Tough day, Greg?" Gareth asked noting the heavy sigh Lestrade let out as he sat.

"Huh? Oh...paperwork. Mountain of it," Lestrade responded.

"Too much of that these days," Michael said sympathetically.

"See, that's why I chose a more practical profession," Gareth said taking a sip of his pint.

"Funny, that's what I thought I'd signed on for," Lestrade stated. He nodded over to the TV Screen across the room, "Have they announced the team?"

"Not yet," Gareth said.

"So, John, Greg here tells us that as well as being a doctor, you work with Sherlock Holmes?" Michael questioned leaning on the table.

"Er...yeah, I help. Where I can." John was unsure of how to respond.

"You do more than that," Lestrade said quietly.

"Apparently he's a complete mad bloke." John interpreted the look Michael was giving him as accusatory which served only to confuse him. Before he'd had time to think of how to react he heard Lestrade;

"Don't start, Michael," It was a gentle but firm warning.

"Oh come on Greg, the other guys at the Yard are always..."

"You've never even met him, alright, so drop it."

"I don't want to meet..."

"Mick!" Lestrade cut him off and jerked his head slightly in John's direction hoping that Michael would stop talking before he went too far. John didn't miss the gesture and was thankful; he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. John wasn't stupid; he was aware that a vast amount of people didn't like Sherlock for one reason or another but he found that, over time, he grown less and less happy and impressed with people insulting the consulting detective in his presence. He'd snapped at Donovan the other week over her childish name-calling.

Michael appeared to get Lestrade's message as he lent back in his chair and offered a 'Sorry' to John. It wasn't sincere; he sounded like a child who had been forced to apologise but John nodded in acceptance anyway.

Any tension that may have followed was diffused by Gareth, whose attention had apparently left the table completely, "Oh bloody hell, they're playing Gerrard on the left again."

"What?" Michael turned his head to face the screen, "Ah, what are they doing that for?"

"He plays better in the centre." Gareth said as if he was pointing out something incredibly obvious.

Michael and Gareth continued to grumble over the team list and even started to argue with other people in the pub about the choices.

Lestrade took this moment to try and apologise properly on his friend's behalf, "Look, John, I'm sorry about Michael. He's..."

"Don't worry about it," John said and then he smirked slightly, "Perhaps, next time, you should invite Sherlock."

Lestrade snorted but he caught something in the other man's expression, "You're not serious?"

John held his glare for a second before breaking out into a grin, "No, I'm not serious. Bloody hell, I don't expect you to want to socialise with him as well."

Lestrade relaxed and took a sip of his pint, "What's he up to tonight then?"

John shook his head, "I've no idea. He took off with an Italian dictionary this afternoon."

"Hey, if you're lucky, he may have gone to Italy."

"Hmm. I wouldn't put it passed him. He'd somehow manage even without a passport," John laughed, "although, actually, I'd be pissed off if he has gone to Italy."

"What? Think of the peace and quiet," Lestrade argued.

"He drags me into some crap places; if he's taken off to Italy without me..."

"Fair enough," Lestrade conceded with a laugh.

The rest of the evening continued with no more talk of Sherlock but plenty of good banter and laughs even though England did the expected and lost the match. John returned to 221B slightly drunk but feeling good. His flatmate was slumped on the sofa asleep so he hadn't missed a trip abroad either. He wandered up to his bedroom hoping that he would get invited to other nights out down the pub...

He was invited to more but only two of those went by before Sherlock appeared...


	2. John's Quirky Friend Arrives

They'd been sat in the pub for around a half-hour. There was no match on this particular night but the pub was still fairly busy.

"Who's up for a game of snooker when that lot have cleared off?" Gareth asked gesturing towards what looked like a group of students who had been not so much playing snooker as mucking about.

"Yeah, alright," Greg said.

"I'm in," Michael agreed.

They all looked over at John who hadn't responded and who didn't appear to paying any attention. Lestrade followed his line of vision and saw what he was focussing on; a certain tall, thin, dark-haired man who was approaching them.

"Oh hell..." Lestrade groaned.

"What?" Gareth asked but he was interrupted;

"John, I need to borrow your phone," Sherlock said loudly as he reached the table, completely disregarding the other people sat at it.

"Hello to you too, Sherlock," John said pointedly.

"Sherlock?" Michael questioned, turning to face the man.

"Yes that's me; Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock put on his best fake smile and offered his hand.

"Michael Jones," Michael said as he reluctantly shook the detective's hand.

"Yes, you're the lawyer," Sherlock responded shooting a knowing look in Lestrade's direction, "And you must be the plumber; Gareth?" he finished offering a hand again, which Gareth took hesitantly.

"What is it you wanted, Sherlock?" John asked with a sigh.

"I told you; I need to borrow your phone."

"Why? Where is yours?"

Sherlock fished his phone out of his pocket and held it up, "It's here."

"So why do you..." John began.

"Oh don't worry, John, I promise I'm not texting any murderers, kidnappers or prostitutes," Sherlock cut in.

The table seemed to all react at once;

"Murderers?" Michael and Gareth both repeated.

"Prostitutes?" Lestrade asked as his eyebrows rose.

"Sherlock!" John rubbed his face with his hands. He didn't bother to address Michael and Gareth but instead responded to Lestrade with a serious tone, "I am never telling that story so just don't ask."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I honestly don't know what your..."

"Sherlock, don't even...I was on a date and...no, no! I am not telling that story," John stood up suddenly, "I'm going to get another drink. Anyone else want one?" He glanced around the table; Michael and Gareth were both still staring up at Sherlock with confusion and, in Michael's case, annoyance etched on their faces. Lestrade on the other hand had sat back in his chair and seemed lost in thought; no doubt making up his own version of the prostitute story. John sighed, "I'll take the silence as a yes, shall I? Sherlock, are you staying for a drink?"

"I'm working, John, or I would be if I could have your phone."

John rolled his eyes, reached for his phone and handed it over. Sherlock took it without thanks and then slid in beside Lestrade at the table. This knocked the DI back to the present.

"You're staying?" he asked Sherlock, quite surprised. He got no response as Sherlock had begun feverishly texting so he looked up at John who just shrugged.

"Right, I'll go and get the drinks then," John said before walking away to the bar.

Nobody spoke for a few moments. Michael and Gareth were both glancing between Sherlock and Lestrade seeming both uncomfortable and irritated. Lestrade was uncomfortable too. He was surprised to find that this appeared not to be because of Sherlock's presence but more due to his friend's reactions. He downed the last of his pint, cleared his throat a bit and then attempted to talk to Sherlock hoping this would relieve some tension;

"So...are you working on a case?" No response again. "Why did you need John's phone?"

This time Sherlock paused, "Because of the umlaut."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm texting in German. John's phone has easier access to the umlaut."

"Ok...does it really matter?"

Sherlock stopped texting completely and fixed a glare on Lestrade.

"Ok, I know how you get about grammar and..." Lestrade started.

"Grammar is important but an umlaut is..."

"...but coming down here for John's phone? Bit much isn't it?" Lestrade continued, ignoring Sherlock's brief attempt to interrupt.

"It was necessary," Sherlock responded, shortly. He resumed texting.

Michael decided he couldn't sit at the table anymore, "I'm going to go and help John with drinks," he said, standing up and leaving promptly.

Gareth watched Michael leave and then stood up as well. "I'm going to the toilet," he told Lestrade before he left. Lestrade sat back in his chair and sighed.

Over at the bar, John was busy balancing the drinks on a tray.

"Need a hand?" Michael asked as he came and stood behind the doctor.

John picked the tray up slightly to test it before deciding he was ready to carry it across the room.

"Thanks, but I think I've got it." John said.

"Listen, John..." Michael began before John made his way back to the table. John didn't miss the man's tone and expression.

"Look, you know me and you know Greg. Greg works with him. He's my friend. How bad can he be?" John stated. He then walked off and left Michael alone. When he reached the table, he couldn't help but notice the lack of Gareth, "Did something..." he started asking Lestrade, nodding towards Sherlock.

"No, nothing. Don't worry," Lestrade told him, understanding.

"Ok...right, well, there's your pint," John said, placing it down in front of a thankful Lestrade. Michael chose to return so John passed another pint over to him. He then placed a drink and a packet of crisps down in front of Sherlock.

"I'm working, John," Sherlock said, eyes never leaving the mobile.

"All the more reason for you to eat and drink," John replied as he sat down.

Sherlock looked up, "Crisps?"

"It's better than nothing," John pointed out.

"What's better than nothing?" Gareth asked as he arrived back to his seat.

"Crisps," John repeated, "Just eat them, Sherlock. I know you missed breakfast and you probably skipped lunch..."

"Yeah, we don't want you fainting again," Lestrade added.

"I don't faint," Sherlock said with indignation. Both Lestrade and John snorted.

"Right, so you chose to..."Lestrade began.

"Shut-up!" Sherlock all but commanded.

John took a sip of his pint to try and help stifle a chuckle.

"I can't believe they still haven't cleared out," Gareth said; he was glaring over at the students again.

"Go and ask them if they'll hurry up," Lestrade told him.

"You could arrest them," Sherlock drawled, opening his crisp bag. Everyone turned to face him.

"Bit drastic, Sherlock. Even for you," John said, suppressing the desire to smile at the sight of Sherlock eating.

"Oh please, you must have noticed. It's obvious."

Gareth and Michael shared confused looked whilst John and Lestrade seemed to battle with each other for a second. John lost; "What's obvious?"

As expected, John received Sherlock's best 'you are an idiot' expression. "Two of them are clearly carrying drugs."

"What?" Michael nearly choked on his drink.

John watched the students with a frown. "Are you sure?"

"I didn't say that they had taken them. I said they were carrying them and yes, I'm sure."

"Which ones?" Lestrade asked; he worked with Sherlock enough to know this was serious.

"Blonde hair, black top and brown hair, pierced lip," Sherlock responded, "Blonde hair has some stuffed in her bag. Brown hair has his in his back pocket; stupid."

"How the hell do you know that?" Michael asked, sceptically. Gareth was thinking the exact same thing.

"Doesn't matter," Lestrade cut in before Sherlock could launch into a long winded explanation; besides the consulting detective looked bored by the entire situation so it would be extra condescending.

"What do you mean it doesn't...Greg, you can't just go over there and start throwing about allegations?" Michael pointed out.

"Not allegations. Fact," Sherlock said, firmly, "Although, he's right about not going over there. Blonde hair, red top has a knife; you may want to call for back up."

"A knife?" Gareth spluttered, quite loudly briefly earning glances from people at nearby tables.

"Keep it down," Lestrade said, reaching for his phone almost immediately, "Sherlock, you are 100% sure about this?" he asked before making a call.

"Well, I'd go over there and prove it but being stabbed wasn't really part of my plans for today."

John rolled his eyes, "Like the threat of being stabbed would put you off; you just can't be bothered."

"True," Sherlock smirked.

John shook his head but then a thought occurred to him, "Sherlock, did you know those kids would be here? Is that the real reason you came?"

If John didn't know better he could have sworn he saw Sherlock bristle at the question.

"Nonsense, John. Drug carrying kids would be a waste of my time."

"Fair enough. But if you wanted to borrow my phone you would have got me to come to you...Sherlock what's going on?"

This time, although the reaction was small, John didn't doubt that Sherlock wasn't telling him something.

...


	3. Friends, Family and Feelings

It didn't take long for the police to arrive and for the students to be dealt with. Gareth and Michael had swooped in and taken the snooker table as soon as possible and Lestrade, sensing the tension between John and Sherlock had left them sitting at the table alone while he stood and watched the game.

"Sherlock, I'm not going to let this go," John said firmly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "What is that saying? Ignorance is bliss?"

"Yes but sometimes ignorance is bloody annoying or stupid- like you not knowing the Earth is round."

"That is unimportant," Sherlock growled.

"For heaven's sake, Sherlock, just tell me." John had to use all his strength not to yell.

Sherlock looked at him as if evaluating all the positives and negatives. He then spoke in a very even manner, "Harry came to the flat."

John didn't appear to know what to do with that statement so Sherlock continued, "She turned up drunk and intimidated Mrs Hudson."

John leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Ok, ok," he rubbed a hand across his face, "What does that have to do with you being here?"

"Mrs Hudson told Harry you'd be here."

Sherlock was looking at John as if willing him to deduce the rest of the information but John suddenly had the demeanour of a man who'd been hit.

"She thought," Sherlock began carefully, "that given recent events you wouldn't want to deal with her."

John raised his head sharply, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, John. Mrs Hudson was concerned. She told me to find you and stay with you in case Harry turned up but it doesn't look like she is going to so everything is ok"

"Everything is not ok, Sherlock."

"But Harry hasn't turned up, John, and given the distance between our flat and-"

"Sherlock. Stop," John leant forward and shook his head, "Harry is out there drunk."

"That isn't unusual."

John huffed, "Not the point. She said she was through with it all. Now she's intimidating Mrs Hudson to the point where she thinks you need to come and what? Protect me?"

Sherlock quirked his brow "Is that what I am doing here?"

"I don't know what you're doing here actually," John laughed but it was devoid of any humour.

"I don't understand."

"Now, there is a statement that I don't hear coming out of your mouth that often," Greg said as he sat back down at the table. Michael and Gareth following him.

John didn't register their presence, "Mrs Hudson should have rung me."

"She didn't want to upset you," Sherlock was getting out of his comfort zone.

"Are we interrupting something?" Gareth asked glancing between the two men.

John spat out his next utterance without thinking, "Why didn't you ring me, Sherlock? You don't mind who you upset."

Sherlock eyes flashed; something about John's words hit him like a bullet. He stood up suddenly, surprising the other men, and handed John back his phone. He gave a curt "Thank you" and then left.

"What was that about?" Greg looked back at John.

John rested his head in his hands for a second, "I shouldn't have said that. Damn!"

"Do you fancy another game of snooker?" Michael asked Gareth in a 'we should leave them too it' tone. Gareth nodded and the two of them slipped away.

"Right, do you want to tell me what's going on?" Greg was concerned.

John glanced at the Inspector and then allowed a small smile to escape his lips; grateful for his friends ear, "My sister turned up at the flat drunk and intimidated Mrs Hudson so much that she felt the need to phone Sherlock to find me in case she showed up here."

Greg digested the information, "Right, so..." he began but it seemed John wasn't finished,

"I accused Sherlock of not caring about me, didn't I?"

"Well, you may have-"

"I mean, he may have being doing what Mrs Hudson told him to do and maybe he doesn't quite understand why he came down here, and stayed, instead of ringing me but...I shouldn't have said that."

Greg waited for moment to see if John wanted to add more to his ramblings but it appeared he was done. "John, we all say stupid things when we're angry. You're angry with your sister. Sherlock will understand."

"Will he?" John chuckled lightly, "We're talking feelings here. Not Sherlock's area of expertise."

"No, but he's getting better. And that's down to you."

"This is such a mess."

Greg reached out and put a reassuring hand on John's shoulder, "Look, you can apologise to Sherlock- he'll get it in the end." He removed his hand and took a swig from his pint before adding, "And as for Harry, I don't know details, but I'm sure there is help out there somewhere."

John sighed, "Hmmm... poor Mrs Hudson..."

"She won't blame you for this," Greg cut in as if knowing where John's mind was heading, "Don't be feeling guilty, John. Harry is a grown woman."

"I know. I know," John repeated as if trying to convince himself.

"Right, you could leave now and get it all over with while you are still worked up," Greg started, "Or you could deal with it when you've cleared your head a bit? You know, like after you have played the Master at Snooker?"

John considered this for a second then smirked, "I didn't know John Simm was here?"

"What?"

"You said I'd be playing the Master."

Greg laughed, "Never had you down as a Doctor Who fan."

"You knew who I meant though."

"I have kids, John," Greg said as he stood up and moved to the table.

"Oh, come on admit it?" John chided as he followed the inspector, already feeling more optimistic about conversations to come.

...


	4. Siblings Cause Trouble

John didn't stay for a whole game of snooker as he found he couldn't relax; he needed to straighten everything out. He decided that he would attempt to phone his sister, not to shout and yell at her for her actions yet (there would be time for that later) but because despite himself he cared about whether she was safe. He found he could not get through to Harry but was not totally surprised when he received a message off Mycroft letting him know that she had managed to get herself home.

He wondered why on earth he couldn't have received that message earlier as he walked up the stairs to 221b. When he reached the living room, he found Sherlock sitting at his desk, busy on his laptop.

"Sherlock..." John started rather unsure of where he was going, "I'm sorry if I-"

"It doesn't matter, John" Sherlock interrupted not bothering to look up.

John sighed, shrugged off his coat and went to sit down on his chair.

"It does matter," John said, "I upset you."

That made Sherlock look up sharply. "You didn't upset me," he contradicted as though insulted.

"It's ok to be upset, Sherlock," John continued quickly before his friend could protest, "I said something I shouldn't have done. And didn't mean. I was angry."

Sherlock paused, "You were angry at me?"

"No, no...well...No, I was angry at Harry. I am angry with Harry. Although, I am quite confused as to why you came to the pub?"

"Because Mrs Hudson told Harry where you were."

"Yes, I know that but..." John began but Sherlock suddenly stood up.

"Mrs Hudson was crying, John. I was working and then I got a phone call. She was crying," Sherlock began to get more and more animated, "I was angry with your sister, I wanted to find her. But then there was you. I knew the probability that Harry would end up in the pub was unlikely but Mrs Hudson was adamant. I thought about ringing you but then I remembered how upset you were last time Harry was drunk..." he trailed off, stopped gesturing and turned to face John, "I didn't think you would need to find out."

John took a moment to take all of it in and then he slowly started to laugh.

"What?" Sherlock asked irritated, "This isn't funny, John."

"I know, I know," John calmed down, "It's just...well, I thought Mycroft was the troublemaker."

Sherlock quirked his brow, "I know how to handle Mycroft. Your sister...your sister..."

"Causes the kind of problems unfamiliar to you," John finished.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's all there in that little speech you just made, Sherlock," John explained, "Harry caused a problem which led to you to have to deal with feelings."

Sherlock stared at John for a moment before lowering his gaze to the floor, "I couldn't think, John. I wanted to work but I couldn't ignore it."

John nodded, "Thank you." 

"What for?" Sherlock raised his head again.

"You did good, Sherlock. You may not know why, you maybe should have done it differently, but you did something."

Sherlock tilted his head, "Ok."

"For future reference though, tell me straight away if anything like this ever happens again. No matter how you think I'll react," John said finishing with a rather dark and not quite joke; "Although, if Harry ever pulls anything like this again, I may let you deal with her."

Sherlock's eyes flashed, "She made Mrs Hudson cry."

"I know, Sherlock. Don't worry, I know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"John."

"Hmm."

"How do you play snooker?"

John smiled, "Why don't you join us at the pub properly and find out?"

Sherlock's eyebrows rose, "What about your friends?"

"You're my friend, Sherlock," John stated standing up, "Do you fancy a cup of tea or a coffee?"

"Tea," Sherlock answered as a smile graced his lips.

...

It was a couple of weeks before another night at the pub was arranged. This time Sherlock was invited. John and Greg decided it best not to tell Gareth and Michael beforehand.

**A/N Going to end this one here for now because I have another story that needs my attention. Who knows though, I may write about Sherlock's snooker game one day ;-)**


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